


The (Green) Apple Of His Eye

by Aetherios



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Apples, Because Muggles Are Writing Erotica About Him, Crack, Draco Malfoy is So Done, F/M, Fluff, Hatching Plans, Humor, Infidelity, Married Life, Seduction of the Truth, and an Apple, but only with an apple, naked cooking, oh and have I mentioned Apples?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27989991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aetherios/pseuds/Aetherios
Summary: When Draco Malfoy finds out that someone is writing erotic stories about him and an apple, he's willing to do anything it takes to teach the author a lesson. Even if it means sending his wife intimidating emoticons and making apple soufflé naked.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Apple, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 19
Kudos: 54





	The (Green) Apple Of His Eye

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magical_traveler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magical_traveler/gifts).



An apple. 

A green _apple._

The users of the internet believed that Draco Malfoy was in love with an inanimate, non-sentient, tangy, juicy, perfect amalgamation of peel and flesh.

Alright, admittedly, he might have a certain fondness for apples. The green kind, in particular. How could he not? They were the fruitish embodiment of Merlin himself. But that didn’t mean the tiny people living in the black box on his lap were allowed to write erotic literature about it.

He glanced at his sleeping wife beside him, cursing her for introducing him to the atrocity Muggles called the ‘internet’. Hermione had come home from the Ministry that evening, holding a large present wrapped in golden snitch-decorated paper. The excitement in her eyes was contagious, and Draco tore through the wrapping with barely concealed enthusiasm only to be met with this black box — Liptap? Taplop? Whatever it was called, it disgusted him. 

Because, apparently, it was a place where people wrote depraved stories about him and a fucking _apple._

He turned back to squint at the bright screen in front of him, his violated eyes skimming through paragraph upon paragraph. The author of this particular work of ‘fan-fiction’ had decided to describe exactly how Draco’s _‘pink tongue peeked out between the seam of his lips, dragging across the taut green skin of the fruit before flicking gently at its stem’._

What utter drivel. 

He would never waste time with such foreplay. No, he liked to sink into the flesh immediately so that he could feel the cool, fresh juice trickle down his chin. This author knew nothing.

But while the description of how Draco seduced— no, _ate_ his fruit was dreadfully inaccurate, he couldn’t deny the fact that this was some good literature. Reading about how _‘his wet tongue sent shivers right up to the apple’s core’_ gave him a hint of objectum-erotic arousal.

He shut the black box with a slam, and Hermione shifted a bit at the noise. Salazar, he really needed to get this apple thing in control. He carefully lifted the screen, lighting the dark room in a fluorescent glow once more. He continued reading until he finally reached the end — where _‘Draco wipes away his tears after eating the only thing in his poor, miserable life he truly loves’_ , obviously — and clenched his jaw.

He wouldn’t tolerate these Muggles spreading all these false tales about him. 

Scrolling down the page, he found a small square for comments at the bottom of the screen. Hermione had shown him how to ‘type’ words with the box, and Draco was proud to say that he was quite the professional now.

“How dare you write such inane words about the Malfoy heir? My father will be hearing about this!” he managed to write after seven tries, with the impressive agility and grace that only said Malfoy heir could possess. 

He went to those clever cartoon illustrations Hermione called ‘emoticons’ and selected the most intimidating one he could find that conveyed his anger: the one with a waterfall of tears streaming down its yellow face. That would surely make the author cower with fear.

He sent the comment with a small _'hmph'_ of satisfaction and put away the box, slumping into bed with a sigh. He slung an arm over Hermione, and she snuggled into his chest. Breathing in the amber scent of her dark curls, he fell asleep wondering if he’d find any erotic stories about dearest Head Auror Potter tomorrow.

* * *

The next morning, Draco Malfoy was bustling around in the kitchen, frantically searching for the love of his life. "Granger," he called, his voice laced with panic. "Granger, where are you?"

His panic surged when he was met with only silence. “Granger!” he yelled again. 

He heard the rapid clicking of heels as Hermione rushed into the kitchen, one hand holding her Ministry cloak while the other was struggling to untangle a hairbrush from the mass of frizz around her head. "Draco?” she asked, “Is everything okay? What's wron—"

"Oh, thank Salazar you're here.” His tense shoulders slumped with relief. He had been terrified for a moment there, afraid that he would never see his beloved again. "Where are my apples?" he asked in a broken whisper. 

Hermione winced as she managed to tear the brush from the knot and gave him a puzzled look. “Apples? I bought some just yesterday.” She leaned over to look past him, her eyes landing on the counter. “They should be in the basket…”

Draco folded his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes. “Those are red.” 

“The grocers were all out of green last week,” she shrugged. _Shrugged_ as if the particular combination of words she just uttered hadn’t completely shattered his life, his world, his entire being.

“The grocers were… _what?”_

“I’m sorry, Draco, but Greg said they were out of green apples last time I visited,” she said with another shrug. “I’ll remember to get some tomorrow, but you can just eat a red one for now.”

A _red_ one? He couldn’t help it when his nose scrunched in distaste and his face turned sour. Sour, just like the fruit, the _green_ fruit he wouldn’t get to ravish— ahem, _eat_ today. He reached for the basket, scrutinizing the pathetic array of apples until he finally chose one. He turned back around to see Hermione staring at him, the corner of her lip tugging into a wry smirk. She approached him slowly, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders as her lips moved to his ear. “Are red apples not worthy enough for the Malfoy heir?” 

Draco huffed. Of course red apples weren’t worthy enough. They weren’t half as plump as the green ones, and his teeth couldn’t sink into the firm flesh with that exquisite crunch that made him groan. The tangy juice that dribbled down his chin just wasn’t the same. Besides, the feel of smooth green skin against his fingers was— 

Wait. “Granger, did you just call me the ‘Malfoy heir’?” he asked, looking down at her.

She pulled away, picking up her bag from the counter and snatching the apple from his hand. “I’ll stop by for green apples on the way back from work. Wouldn’t want to wait until your father hears about it, you know?” 

With a final wink, she took a bite from the apple and disappeared into the green flames of the fireplace. Cheeky little witch. 

Draco’s fond smile melted as he considered the all too familiar phrase she used. Familiar because he’d expertly typed those exact same words the day before. Hermione knew that too, and he had an idea how.

* * *

Draco _did,_ in fact, find erotic stories about Potter that afternoon. 

He’d been enjoying himself until he discovered something the Muggles called ‘Drarry’ and, with no small amount of horror, found himself hard. He had to resort to reading about Weaselbee’s pale, freckled arse just to calm himself.

His mind — and his cock — successfully scarred for life, he slammed the box shut and vowed to never read the abomination known as ‘fan-fiction’ again. A pity, really, because even those Muggles seemed to agree that Draco was more skilled in the sack than his boss at the DMLE.

He leaned back into the sofa, not entirely sure what to do with himself for the rest of the day. While he didn’t work on weekends, Hermione did, and there were still five hours to go before he would get to see his appl— his wife. _Obviously._

Thinking back to that morning’s incident, he had to suppress a smirk. He wondered how he didn’t catch on to her sooner. What other author would call herself ‘leviOsa-not-leviosA’ except Hermione Granger? 

Now that he knew who he’d sent his comment to, he realized that perhaps the crying emoticon was uncalled for. He had been quite angry at the time, and he hoped it wasn’t as intimidating as he meant it to be. But a little part of him thought she deserved it. No one should be writing such misinformative things about him, his wife included, and she needed to know that too.

He thought about it for a moment before he stood up, a triumphant grin on his face. Draco Malfoy had a plan.

* * *

Goyle seemed puzzled when Draco arrived at Gregory’s Grocery to buy four large bags of green apples filled to the brim, but simply grunted happily as he stuffed the heavy sack of galleons into his pocket.

* * *

Three hours later, every corner of the Granger-Malfoy kitchen was covered in pots and pans and trays and bowls filled with every apple dish one could imagine — ranging from apple celery salad and pork in apple cream to apple cinnamon tarts and caramel apple cheesecake. 

Draco leaned over a pot of parsnip and apple soup and stirred, naked except for the loose apron strung around his torso. Nothing seduced the truth like his bare arse in an apron. 

The Floo roared just as the soup bubbled to a finish. He heard the click of heels behind him grow louder until it came to an abrupt stop. Looking over his shoulder, he smirked when he saw Hermione standing still near the counter, her stare fixed low on his back.

“Granger,” he greeted, turning around. Her gaze lifted then, taking in the state of the kitchen before meeting his. “Thought I’d make dinner tonight. Can you guess the special ingredient?” He picked up the last full green apple that was left, bringing it to his lips.

Hermione swallowed thickly, wide eyes following the path his tongue traced across the green skin. “What is it, darling? I thought you liked it when my _‘wet tongue sends shivers right up to the apple’s core’_ ,” he drawled. 

She stared at him for a moment longer before putting her work bag on the counter with a defeated sigh. “Listen, if this is about the story, I can explain.”

 _Looked like the irresistible wiles of his arse were working then._

“Remember when you went to Peru for that Auror search last year?” she asked. He nodded once, raising an eyebrow for her to continue. “Well, you were gone for two whole weeks, and I tried to handle it, but I missed— er, you know…”

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and Draco tilted his head in confusion. “Sex, Draco,” she clarified, “I missed sex.” _Oh._ “And so I saw the fruit basket filled with those green apples you love so much, and I just thought… Why not do something about it?” she finished with a nervous chuckle. 

He frowned a bit. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand why she would write something like that. If it was she who had been gone, Draco would have lasted no more than three days before he bought a Portkey all the way to Peru. But why, for Salazar’s sake, why an _apple_ of all things? 

Apparently, his confusion was evident, because her hands came to rest on her hips as she spoke again, her tone accusatory. “Draco. The faces, the expressions, the _sounds_ you make when you eat those apples. Do you know how bloody sexy it all is?” she demanded with a stomp of her foot.

If he didn’t know his wife so well, he would’ve thought she was livid. But the darkness in her eyes and the subtle shift in her breathing told him differently. May Merlin bless the Muggles who crafted this apron. 

“I suppose we’ll have to make up for those two weeks, then,” he said, untying the knot behind his back and letting the cloth fall to the floor. “But first, care to join me for dinner, Mrs. Malfoy?”

Her eyes dropped again, roaming around the newly-exposed skin. “Actually, no,” she finally said. 

His brows furrowed. “Why not?”

“Well, for one, I can’t exactly waste time eating with you looking like that,” she said bluntly, gesturing at his general form. He straightened a bit, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a smirk. “And second, I actually don’t like apples all that much.”

His hand released its grip on the bitten apple in his hands, and Draco’s smirk fell, barely registering the deafening thud when it hit the marble floor. Did she just say she didn’t like… _apples?_ He gulped once, taking a deep breath to remain calm. “It was nice while it lasted, Miss Granger, but I’m afraid our marriage has come to an end,” he said in a sharp breath. 

He watched as Hermione approached him, bringing her fingers to his chin and tilting his head to look down at her. “I can’t _believe_ how much a drama queen you are,” she said, pressing onto her toes to brush a kiss to his mouth. 

Draco huffed against her lips. He wasn’t being dramatic. He was just saying what needed to be said. 

“Now, go wear some clothes so that I can eat your apple farm.” She patted his chest twice, her smile wide and eyes sparkling.

But then again, he could always reconsider. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry you had to die reading this, [Canttouchthis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canttouchthis), but thank you for being such a wonderful beta. You will live on forever in our hearts. 
> 
> [magical_traveler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magical_traveler) is entirely to blame for making me think of this story. A genius, but completely at fault. If any of you want to throw rotten ~~tomatoes~~ green apples at someone or shower them with kisses and love, please do so to her.


End file.
